


wrapped around your finger

by nilchance



Series: ain't this the life [28]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Fellcest - Freeform, M/M, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), eventual spicykustard, offscreen kustard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 11:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19745146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilchance/pseuds/nilchance
Summary: After the date, Edge has some frustration to get out of his system. Red is happy to help.





	wrapped around your finger

**Author's Note:**

> detailed content warnings in the endnotes

“Hey, boss,” Red says. “So how was your date?”

He makes a pretty picture, all spread out across Edge’s sheets in nothing but an infuriating grin. Red is never so devastatingly lovely as when he gets what he wants. He got himself ready, his cunt wet between his legs, his fingers still slick. The air in the bedroom is heavy with his scent.

Edge likes to think he has restraint. He’s sure as fuck needed it lately. But he has limits. 

He kicks the bedroom door shut to forestall feline interruptions and crosses the room in a few long strides. Red’s grin gets sharper with every step. When Edge sits on the bed and hauls him up onto his lap, Red simply wraps his arms around Edge and holds on.

“Pretty good, I guess,” Red says, laughing. “You shoulda seen him. He was so riled up he damn rubbed off against my leg.”

Edge can picture it all too easily. He’d seen the way Sans reacted when Edge said he wanted him, the way his eyelights shrank a little and his breathing came faster, the flush rising on his bare throat as his body heated up. He remembers the soft sounds coming through the bedroom door the other night and the look on Sans’s face when Red was biting his collarbone. The image is burned into his mind.

Slow, yes. Careful. But oh, it is sweet to know that one day Sans might moan like that for him.

Edge reaches between them to unbutton his pants. They’re too tight to easily get out of and he’s not inclined to wait. Red doesn’t help, leaning in to lick and bite at Edge’s spine.

“So hey, this seems like a good time to tell you a little something,” Red murmurs. “You remember when I cashed that blank check?”

“It was only a few days ago and you wouldn’t shut up about it, so yes,” Edge says, distracted from Red’s endless bullshit by getting his cock out.

“I fucked him with a tentacle shaped like your dick,” Red says.

It’s like getting stabbed directly in the hindbrain, bypassing anything like sanity. Edge jerks away to stare at his brother, not sure if he’s appalled or aroused or some terrible combination of both. Red grins back at him, utterly without shame. 

Flatly, Edge demands, “What?”

“Well, okay,” Red says. “A little smaller than the real thing. He’s not used to it. Fuck, he took it so easy, though. Didn’t even have to finger him. He was so wet.”

Edge draws in a sharp breath through his nasal cavity.

“I wasn’t even all the way in him the first time he came,” Red continues mercilessly. His grin widens. “I think he knew.”

With a strangled noise, Edge grabs Red by the hips and pulls him close. Red groans when Edge sinks into him, the sound so deeply filthy that Edge feels it like a wave of heat. Red’s fingers clutch at Edge’s shirt, a brief attempt at fumbling with his buttons before Red just rips it open. His deliberate disregard is infuriating but Edge can’t find it in himself to object, too busy urging Red to ride him. 

Red is happy to do so, as it turns out. The pace he sets is a taunt, maddeningly slow. He says sweetly, “You’re such a gentleman,” and laughs when Edge makes a disgruntled noise and reclaims the steering wheel. His brother is light and it’s easy to just use him, rough but never careless.

Wrapping his arms around Edge again, Red rakes his fingers hard across the back of Edge’s ribs. It’s going to leave marks. Edge hisses at him, gripping his hips harder. Red says, “That’s right. Don’t gotta be so goddamn controlled all the time. I--”

Unceremoniously, Edge dumps Red off his lap and onto the bed. Red gives a long, shuddering moan when his sore shoulders make contact with the sheets, but he’s clutching at Edge, trying to drag him down. Edge goes, pushing into him again with one rough thrust. Red arches towards him like a drawn bowstring, his hands scrabbling at Edge’s back.

“Bet he’s touching himself right now. Bet he’s--” Red loses his train of thought on a pornographic noise. “Oh fuck, right there.”

Edge isn’t even tempted to deny him. He continues what he’s doing with merciless precision.

Red lets out a shaky breath and seems to regain a little coherence. “I bet he’s thinking of your hands on him.”

Putting a hand on Red’s chest, Edge presses his shoulders harder into the bed, and Red’s expression tightens in sweet pain. Edge doesn’t tell him to shut up, although he should.

“How many fingers do you think he’s fucking himself with?” Red asks. “Three?”

There’s pleasure drawing tight in Edge’s body. He tries to slow down, to think of control and boundaries and what is appropriate, but Red’s voice has spread through his system like a drug. There are no brakes.

“Nah,” Red says, watching his face. “Four. That way they open him up like yours.”

Edge is helpless before the climax that crashes into him. It wracks him, doubling him over in pleasure and relief that almost loops back into pain. Red practically croons his satisfaction and pulls him closer, his teeth scraping on Edge’s ribs as he nuzzles and then bites him.

Finally, Edge manages to find solid ground. He’s still shuddering a little when he pulls out of Red, and Red draws in a breath to no doubt snarl at him for stopping before Edge moves down between Red’s legs. When he sinks four fingers into Red, his pussy is already twitching like he was right on the verge of climax when Edge came. Red tries to fuck himself, an uncontrolled motion, and Edge warns him, “Be still.”

Red growls, but he doesn’t move again. Scarlet fluid seeps out from between Edge’s fingers as he curls them inside Red, their magic combined until it’s hard to tell one from the other. Red hitches in a hard breath, almost a sob. Edge lowers his head and tastes him, his tongue dragging softly over Red’s clit.

“Fuck,” Red whispers. He sounds just as unwound as Edge was at that one light touch. He’s trembling. When Edge does it again, he grasps the sheets in his fists and doesn’t demand that Edge go faster. With each teasing lick, Edge crooks his fingers hard. Red starts to shudder, desperate noises driven out of him each time Edge licks him, rising higher until he suddenly stiffens and claws at the bed as he comes. It’s long and messy and beautiful.

Finally, when he’s satisfied, Edge rolls off of him. They lay there side by side on the bed, not quite touching. This is the point where Edge would move away, before Red could get twitchy. They didn’t play rough enough that Red would’ve let him offer aftercare, at least not before Sans showed up and changed things.

“That was incredibly inappropriate,” Edge says. It occurs to him a moment later that given the amount of things Red does that are incredibly inappropriate, he should clarify. “Fucking him with something shaped like my dick before he made up his mind, I mean.”

“Licking his come out of me ain’t exactly polite either, but that didn’t stop you,” Red says, still a little out of breath.

“Things have changed,” Edge says, well aware that Red has a point.

“Whatever. Like I said, I think he figured it out already. He sure didn’t complain at the time. You got a juicebox?”

Edge turns his head to look at him. Red has one arm draped over his closed eyes, making him hard to read. The last time Edge went to the grocery store, he bought a six-pack of juiceboxes, telling himself that they were for Frisk. He pulls one out now and puts it on Red’s chest.

Taking his arm off his eyes, Red raises his head to look at the juicebox. He lets his head drop back to the bed and says, bemused, “Son of a bitch, you actually had one. I was kidding.”

“Do you want it or not?” Edge demands.

“I asked for it, didn’t I?” Red says, jabbing the straw into the juicebox with more force than necessary.

“Spoiled bastard,” Edge mutters. 

They come to a silent agreement to ignore how fond that sounded.

“So didja kiss him?” Red asks after a moment of nursing his juicebox.

“No,” Edge says. “We’re taking this at his pace, and I don’t think he was ready yet.”

Red snorts. “He didn’t wanna snap and hump you in the front seat of your car.”

“Not everyone is as unendingly horny as you, brother,” Edge says, trying to disregard that mental image. Too late. It’s lodged forever in his psyche. The way Sans would feel on his lap, the soft warmth of his body, his mouth desperate on Edge’s, too desperate to have any shame or reservations, begging him...

Red looks at Edge, looks significantly at his stiffening cock, and drawls, “Right.”

“Shut up,” Edge says, the best defense he can muster. Red smirks. “I know it’s not in your nature to be patient, but--”

“I ain’t in a rush,” Red says. “This whole situation is working out great for me.”

“Just when I think you’ve reached the apex of self-satisfaction, you prove me wrong,” Edge says. “It’s almost impressive.”

Red shrugs. “We’ve all got talents. Let him take his time. He wants to stick around.”

Edge’s soul squeezes tight, a nearly physical pain. “Do you think so?”

The question comes out uncertain rather than sardonic, and he would deserve whatever acidic bullshit Red slung at him to make him pay for showing weakness. Red takes a long drink and says, “Considering Doctor Fuck-That-Guy, I ain’t surprised Sansy is worried the door is gonna close and lock behind him. But he wouldn’t have taken the food or the collar if he didn’t trust you.”

“Us,” Edge says.

It’s a long few seconds before Red replies, “I never said he was smart. Anyway, I’m almost done with this juicebox. You got anything else you want me to suck on? I didn’t get to fuck him today, so you gotta make up for the jizz deficit.”

“Is that how that works,” Edge says dryly.

“Yep.” Red goes to drop the empty juicebox off the side of the bed, but Edge catches it and puts it on the nightstand, glaring. Red grins back, all smug challenge. “Hold hands in the movies all you want, boss. Be sweet to him. Court him real nice. Meanwhile, I’ll keep him warmed up for you.”

“A noble sacrifice on your part,” Edge says.

“Look at me, jumping on this grenade,” Red agrees. “The grenade is his dick.”

“So I gathered.” Edge pushes at Red’s hip. “I’ll fuck you, you insatiable creature. Just roll over and let me see your shoulders first.”

“It’s fine,” Red says dismissively.

Edge raises a brow. This is _their_ version of courtship, as far from sweetly holding hands at the movies as you can get. Knowing the answer, he asks, “Would you rather I make you?”

Red’s grin is slow and vicious. “Do you even gotta ask? You’re losing your touch, Paps.”

Edge proves him wrong. Repeatedly.

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: one oblique reference to Gaster's abuse of Sans and Papyrus when they were kids, Red being inappropriate as always and bringing up Sans in bed.


End file.
